August 30, 2008
Aloha
There's nothing like a Luau party on a lovely summer day! Thanks to their great leaders in Primary, the girls had a morning full of fun. Here's a little glimpse. Aloha!
August 28, 2008
Rock Star (Psalms 12:3)
I have problems. A few months ago, when I went to the dentist after not going for (ahem) about three years, (I know, bad, huh?) he told me that I was an immaculate tooth brusher, and he couldn't believe the chart that told him it had been 35 months since I had last come in for a cleaning. I am embarrassed to admit that I was super proud of myself. "I am a *rock star* tooth brusher," I thought.
Then he told me that I needed to get my wisdom teeth out because they were going to cause me some serious problems. He said, "You're going to hate me when you do it because it will be BAD, but you need it done. So, do it now." Well, that sort of put a damper on the visit. Maybe I wasn't as good at teeth care as I thought. But, I still thought I was pretty cool, even if my teeth I couldn't see were being naughty.
Fast forward to now. Let me tell you what the oral surgeon said today when I went to see him for my re-check on my surgery. He said that he felt so bad sending me home last week because he knew it would be a terrible recovery. He said two of the teeth he had to break into teeny-tiny pieces to get them out and away from the nerves, and that it was just awful. He said for a teenager it would have been bad but he was real worried about me. And then he said, "You are one tough cookie. I thought you would be so much worse than you are now. And, you have done an excellent job at keeping everything clean. Well done, I am impressed!"
It's pathetically sad how proud I was at his statement. Now, I didn't tell him that I wanted to roll over and die a couple of days ago. That wouldn't have been impressive. I just smiled meekly and said, "Well, there were a couple of rough days."
He said, "I'm sure there were. But I see that we've given you a rainbow of colors to decorate your face. Maybe that helped cheer you up a bit?" with a nice little wink.
"Oh, yes," I said, "It's been very nice. Too bad you didn't see it yesterday, I think there was even some green in there. It's faded quite a bit in the last twenty-four hours, you missed the best of it."
To which he replied, "I'm just glad it isn't worse. You really have done so well. What a tough girl you are."
And even though I left the office with considerably less money, and a handful of antibiotics and anti-inflammatory pills, I was feeling pretty proud of myself. Downright high-and-mighty at my tooth care and recovery talent, actually. We have a lip sync/talent show at our church tomorrow and I'm considering putting my teeth and healing wounds on display. I totally rock.
I think maybe it's my head that might need some of those anti-inflammatory drugs.
Or, I need to develop more talents. Or get a new life. Or more friends. Or something. I'm pathetic.
Then he told me that I needed to get my wisdom teeth out because they were going to cause me some serious problems. He said, "You're going to hate me when you do it because it will be BAD, but you need it done. So, do it now." Well, that sort of put a damper on the visit. Maybe I wasn't as good at teeth care as I thought. But, I still thought I was pretty cool, even if my teeth I couldn't see were being naughty.
Fast forward to now. Let me tell you what the oral surgeon said today when I went to see him for my re-check on my surgery. He said that he felt so bad sending me home last week because he knew it would be a terrible recovery. He said two of the teeth he had to break into teeny-tiny pieces to get them out and away from the nerves, and that it was just awful. He said for a teenager it would have been bad but he was real worried about me. And then he said, "You are one tough cookie. I thought you would be so much worse than you are now. And, you have done an excellent job at keeping everything clean. Well done, I am impressed!"
It's pathetically sad how proud I was at his statement. Now, I didn't tell him that I wanted to roll over and die a couple of days ago. That wouldn't have been impressive. I just smiled meekly and said, "Well, there were a couple of rough days."
He said, "I'm sure there were. But I see that we've given you a rainbow of colors to decorate your face. Maybe that helped cheer you up a bit?" with a nice little wink.
"Oh, yes," I said, "It's been very nice. Too bad you didn't see it yesterday, I think there was even some green in there. It's faded quite a bit in the last twenty-four hours, you missed the best of it."
To which he replied, "I'm just glad it isn't worse. You really have done so well. What a tough girl you are."
And even though I left the office with considerably less money, and a handful of antibiotics and anti-inflammatory pills, I was feeling pretty proud of myself. Downright high-and-mighty at my tooth care and recovery talent, actually. We have a lip sync/talent show at our church tomorrow and I'm considering putting my teeth and healing wounds on display. I totally rock.
I think maybe it's my head that might need some of those anti-inflammatory drugs.
Or, I need to develop more talents. Or get a new life. Or more friends. Or something. I'm pathetic.
August 27, 2008
I Wonder as I Wander
Truth be told, I have only wandered out of the house for about one hour in the past week since I got my wisdom teeth out. But, I'll tell you, lying around recuperating from bone-breaking surgery and unpleasant drug side effects has given me plenty of time to wonder.
For instance, why am I the only one in the house that knows how to change the toilet paper roll? And why do I always realize it's empty from my glorious perch atop the toilet bowl? Now, that's a comfortable position to reach under the cupboard and change it from. Doesn't anyone realize when they go that they've used the last squares?
Why is it that when the girls have ALL of their clothes picked out the night before a school morning that mysteriously in the night the clean socks have all disappeared? Where do they go? Why do we need to look for socks every morning when they were "just right here" the night before?
Also, I wonder how it is possible that five people can dirty nearly every cup in the day. Even though I made these cute little coasters that have their names on them that they are supposed to put their water cups on. Did they all forget how to read their names? Or perhaps they all need new glasses? Hmmm, it's a puzzlement.
And one last thing, with over sixty channels, how is it possible that there is nothing good on TV in the afternoons?
For instance, why am I the only one in the house that knows how to change the toilet paper roll? And why do I always realize it's empty from my glorious perch atop the toilet bowl? Now, that's a comfortable position to reach under the cupboard and change it from. Doesn't anyone realize when they go that they've used the last squares?
Why is it that when the girls have ALL of their clothes picked out the night before a school morning that mysteriously in the night the clean socks have all disappeared? Where do they go? Why do we need to look for socks every morning when they were "just right here" the night before?
Also, I wonder how it is possible that five people can dirty nearly every cup in the day. Even though I made these cute little coasters that have their names on them that they are supposed to put their water cups on. Did they all forget how to read their names? Or perhaps they all need new glasses? Hmmm, it's a puzzlement.
And one last thing, with over sixty channels, how is it possible that there is nothing good on TV in the afternoons?
August 25, 2008
The Deeper Meaning of Feathers
I'm waxing a bit nostalgic today. I'm not really sure why. It could have been that I woke to the smell of Spaghettios warming for the girls' lunches. I had a roommate that loved this dish for breakfast, much to the chagrin of others living in the house. It was usually Spaghettios or Bean Burritos, both of which are not my favorite smells, particularly in the morning.
Or, I could be thinking back on my childhood because today I had a lunch which I have not had for years. A can of Campbell's Cream of Chicken soup, made with milk and served with soggy Saltine crackers. You see, my husband thinks this soup is only for casseroles. So, I don't think I have had this soup since I was married. And let me tell you, I wasn't missing much.
But I think the real reason I am nostalgic today is my recent read. The Time it Takes to Fall is a coming-of-age story set in Florida, that coincides with the time of the Challenger space shuttle tragedy. While I felt the novel was fair (2.5 of 5 stars), it did have a way of making me think on my remembrance of the day the world watched the Challenger explode. Here is my story:
For some reason, on January 28, 1986, I stayed home because I was not feeling well. I was probably allergic to Middle School. :) My mom went on a quick errand, and left me to watch my little brother, who was about two at the time.
I'm not sure if I remembered the Challenger would be launching that day (I probably did, because everyone was talking about the teacher going) or if I was just looking for something to watch on TV and stumbled upon it, but I remember sitting in the Family Room of our house glued to the TV. I'd seen launches before, and felt the nervousness that usually accompanied my viewing. What could go wrong? Will they cancel the launch? Will everyone be alright? Just as the astronauts came out to board the shuttle, my brother wandered up the stairs. I was captivated by the astronauts. I forgot my brother, and stayed where I was.
As I watched the astronauts get on the shuttle and wave to the crowd, I marveled at how calm they looked. Unaffected by the awesomeness of the history they were about to take part in, they smiled and chatted. Even the teacher, Christa McAuliffe, was relaxed and comfortable. Their coolness and confidence lulled me into forgetting how dangerous and risky their mission was.
The take-off was like others I had seen. Loud, bright, and quick. I had just stood up to check on baby brother when the plume of smoke split in two and the announcer stopped talking mid-sentence. Then, it seemed, time stood still. Everyone seemed confused and the nervousness I had forgotten moments ago returned. What had happened? Had something gone wrong?
I vividly remember backing up to sit on the couch, as the television replayed the explosion from different angles. I couldn't believe it. It seemed surreal. I sat on the couch with my mouth hanging open, thinking of the families of the astronauts and the poor students of the "Teacher in Space" watching their loved ones' space mission go up in flames.
It must have been several minutes that I sat taking in the craziness of the moment. Some were speculating that the astronauts could be alive, others were sure they weren't. I knew they couldn't be. It was all too horrible. And then, I came back to reality, and remembered my little brother. He was being too quiet. Way too quiet for a curious, active, two-year-old boy.
I walked up the stairs and was met by a cloudy white hallway. Little bits of something white were floating all around. This was surreal. It was like the particles of the Challenger had somehow come into our house. I was bewildered and felt like I was in a dream.
I turned the corner and saw the reason for the mess. Baby brother had somehow broken open a down pillow and spread the contents in his room and hallway. It was everywhere! All over the carpet, in the air, even stuck to the walls were minuscule bits of feather. I didn't know how to start cleaning up this mess. I settled on a broom and dustpan and started to eliminate the big piles. I'm not even sure what I did to get little brother out of the way. Put him in his high chair? In his crib? The next thing I remember was cleaning for what seemed like hours, while thinking about the astronauts on the Challenger and their families. NASA had a big mess to clean up, and it was much worse than the one I dealt with. It didn't occur to me to yell at my brother for making this mess; his life was a new, precious one. And, even though his fun caused me a lot of time and stress just then, he was there, and that was enough. We were lucky.
I swept, I vacuumed, I picked at bits. And when mom got home, she did the same. I don't remember if she got mad at my inattentiveness. I do remember more and more solemn vacuuming and cleaning after additional feathers had settled. Looking back, it seems to me that as we cleaned, mom and I were both thinking of the fragility of life and the awesomeness of it all.
You know, for weeks we tried to get all of that feather down cleaned from the cracks and corners of the room and hallway. Little bits of it turned up everywhere. About three years later, we sold the house and there were still remnants of that pillow in the corners of the hallway, almost hidden between the carpet and the baseboards. And, it seems that anyone that witnessed the Challenger launching that cold January day, will find some remnant of it hidden in the cracks of their memories. For me, feathers and space shuttles can't be thought of without the other.
What about you? Do you remember that day?
Or, I could be thinking back on my childhood because today I had a lunch which I have not had for years. A can of Campbell's Cream of Chicken soup, made with milk and served with soggy Saltine crackers. You see, my husband thinks this soup is only for casseroles. So, I don't think I have had this soup since I was married. And let me tell you, I wasn't missing much.
But I think the real reason I am nostalgic today is my recent read. The Time it Takes to Fall is a coming-of-age story set in Florida, that coincides with the time of the Challenger space shuttle tragedy. While I felt the novel was fair (2.5 of 5 stars), it did have a way of making me think on my remembrance of the day the world watched the Challenger explode. Here is my story:
For some reason, on January 28, 1986, I stayed home because I was not feeling well. I was probably allergic to Middle School. :) My mom went on a quick errand, and left me to watch my little brother, who was about two at the time.
I'm not sure if I remembered the Challenger would be launching that day (I probably did, because everyone was talking about the teacher going) or if I was just looking for something to watch on TV and stumbled upon it, but I remember sitting in the Family Room of our house glued to the TV. I'd seen launches before, and felt the nervousness that usually accompanied my viewing. What could go wrong? Will they cancel the launch? Will everyone be alright? Just as the astronauts came out to board the shuttle, my brother wandered up the stairs. I was captivated by the astronauts. I forgot my brother, and stayed where I was.
As I watched the astronauts get on the shuttle and wave to the crowd, I marveled at how calm they looked. Unaffected by the awesomeness of the history they were about to take part in, they smiled and chatted. Even the teacher, Christa McAuliffe, was relaxed and comfortable. Their coolness and confidence lulled me into forgetting how dangerous and risky their mission was.
The take-off was like others I had seen. Loud, bright, and quick. I had just stood up to check on baby brother when the plume of smoke split in two and the announcer stopped talking mid-sentence. Then, it seemed, time stood still. Everyone seemed confused and the nervousness I had forgotten moments ago returned. What had happened? Had something gone wrong?
I vividly remember backing up to sit on the couch, as the television replayed the explosion from different angles. I couldn't believe it. It seemed surreal. I sat on the couch with my mouth hanging open, thinking of the families of the astronauts and the poor students of the "Teacher in Space" watching their loved ones' space mission go up in flames.
It must have been several minutes that I sat taking in the craziness of the moment. Some were speculating that the astronauts could be alive, others were sure they weren't. I knew they couldn't be. It was all too horrible. And then, I came back to reality, and remembered my little brother. He was being too quiet. Way too quiet for a curious, active, two-year-old boy.
I walked up the stairs and was met by a cloudy white hallway. Little bits of something white were floating all around. This was surreal. It was like the particles of the Challenger had somehow come into our house. I was bewildered and felt like I was in a dream.
I turned the corner and saw the reason for the mess. Baby brother had somehow broken open a down pillow and spread the contents in his room and hallway. It was everywhere! All over the carpet, in the air, even stuck to the walls were minuscule bits of feather. I didn't know how to start cleaning up this mess. I settled on a broom and dustpan and started to eliminate the big piles. I'm not even sure what I did to get little brother out of the way. Put him in his high chair? In his crib? The next thing I remember was cleaning for what seemed like hours, while thinking about the astronauts on the Challenger and their families. NASA had a big mess to clean up, and it was much worse than the one I dealt with. It didn't occur to me to yell at my brother for making this mess; his life was a new, precious one. And, even though his fun caused me a lot of time and stress just then, he was there, and that was enough. We were lucky.
I swept, I vacuumed, I picked at bits. And when mom got home, she did the same. I don't remember if she got mad at my inattentiveness. I do remember more and more solemn vacuuming and cleaning after additional feathers had settled. Looking back, it seems to me that as we cleaned, mom and I were both thinking of the fragility of life and the awesomeness of it all.
You know, for weeks we tried to get all of that feather down cleaned from the cracks and corners of the room and hallway. Little bits of it turned up everywhere. About three years later, we sold the house and there were still remnants of that pillow in the corners of the hallway, almost hidden between the carpet and the baseboards. And, it seems that anyone that witnessed the Challenger launching that cold January day, will find some remnant of it hidden in the cracks of their memories. For me, feathers and space shuttles can't be thought of without the other.
What about you? Do you remember that day?
August 24, 2008
Oh Dear
Because I have cheeks the size of chipmunks, can barely eat anything, am totally doped up on painkillers, and can't really think too straight, I would like to leave you with a link today, instead of a real post.
My cousin just started a blog called Diapers and Divinity. I recently read a post of hers that made me laugh right out loud (which was an achievement, since I was feeling quite miserable.) It is called "Mom, you're not going to like this...". And really, how can a conversation with your child turn out well if it starts like that? Oh dear. So, go, enjoy her story, and browse around her new blog for a while. I promise, you'll be glad you did.
My cousin just started a blog called Diapers and Divinity. I recently read a post of hers that made me laugh right out loud (which was an achievement, since I was feeling quite miserable.) It is called "Mom, you're not going to like this...". And really, how can a conversation with your child turn out well if it starts like that? Oh dear. So, go, enjoy her story, and browse around her new blog for a while. I promise, you'll be glad you did.
August 20, 2008
Wisdom Lost
Tomorrow morning, I am going in to have my impacted wisdom teeth removed. I was a little worried that I would be losing any wisdom I had when they were removed. But, apparently, I never had any wisdom in the first place, since they never tried to erupt. According to the all-knowing internet, wisdom teeth are called wisdom teeth for a reason.
- "They are generally thought to be called wisdom teeth because they appear so late—much later than the other teeth, at an age where people are presumably wiser than as a child, when the other teeth erupt."
August 18, 2008
Cake Wrecks
I have just wasted 15 hilarious minutes at this blog: cakewrecks.blogspot.com. There is a bit of adult content, so make sure your kids are not reading over your shoulder. But, talk about cake wrecks. Just too funny. My favorite this week: the ("Olympic Rings") one. Um, duh!
August 15, 2008
Likeness
This morning, the King told Snow White, "You know, you look a little like your Uncle R."
She looked at me sideways, not really sure how to take that. Does any girl really want to look like her bearded uncle?
"He means," I tried to explain, "that you have some of the same features as your uncle. You actually look a bit like my mom's side of the family. You sort of look like Grandma D."
"I do? When?" she inquired of Dad.
"I don't know," he thought, "maybe when you're asleep."
"But, Grandma D snores when she's asleep!"
She looked at me sideways, not really sure how to take that. Does any girl really want to look like her bearded uncle?
"He means," I tried to explain, "that you have some of the same features as your uncle. You actually look a bit like my mom's side of the family. You sort of look like Grandma D."
"I do? When?" she inquired of Dad.
"I don't know," he thought, "maybe when you're asleep."
"But, Grandma D snores when she's asleep!"
August 14, 2008
Quiet
The girls had a great first day of school, despite the fact that it was still dark!!! when Cinderella got on the bus. (Did you notice that in the pictures?!) That's right, the bus picks her up at 6:30 in the morning! Crazy. I'm trying to remember to be thankful that she is picked up at the end of our driveway rather than having to walk to a bus stop, but the fact is, that makes it take longer to pick everyone up and we're one of the first stops on the route. I am much more bothered with the whole time thing than she is. She was up and ready and has a great attitude--If only I didn't have the experience of five previous years to know this will go away in the next couple of weeks. Sigh.
Cinderella survived the first day of middle school. She loved it. She had no problems with her locker and didn't get trampled during passing period (her greatest fears). She even liked all of her teachers. Especially her math teacher, which is good. I'm predicting math will be her trickier subject, and if she loves her teacher, she's more likely to overcome her shyness and ask for help.
Sleeping Beauty and Snow White also loved their new school. It is 1/4 the size of their old school, so after just a day they say they know where everything is. As predicted, Snow White was tickled by her new teacher's dry humor. When Cinderella was in Mrs. S's class two years ago, I would visit and Mrs. S's personality often reminded me of Snow White's humor. I think they'll get along great.
Sleeping Beauty is in heaven with 12 girls and 8 boys in her class. Last year there were only 8 girls and 16 boys, and the year before that 7 girls and 16 boys. She's excited that she will be able to sit by a girl every once in awhile, and especially excited that she can sit by her sister. So far, both girls deemed the work in class "fun" and "easy". And I'm sure the first day's assignments will reflect what is coming. ;)
As for me? I do miss the girls( I know, shocking, when you take into account three days ago), but am delighted to have some quiet time to myself. Mostly, I have had a fabulous time watching Olympics and folding laundry. Oh, and lying on the couch reading and wasting time. I figure I only have a few days a year to indulge myself, so I do. Pretty soon, I'll start subbing, volunteering in the girls' classroom, and all the other normal things I should be doing. But for now, I'm enjoying the quiet. Heavenly.
Cinderella survived the first day of middle school. She loved it. She had no problems with her locker and didn't get trampled during passing period (her greatest fears). She even liked all of her teachers. Especially her math teacher, which is good. I'm predicting math will be her trickier subject, and if she loves her teacher, she's more likely to overcome her shyness and ask for help.
Sleeping Beauty and Snow White also loved their new school. It is 1/4 the size of their old school, so after just a day they say they know where everything is. As predicted, Snow White was tickled by her new teacher's dry humor. When Cinderella was in Mrs. S's class two years ago, I would visit and Mrs. S's personality often reminded me of Snow White's humor. I think they'll get along great.
Sleeping Beauty is in heaven with 12 girls and 8 boys in her class. Last year there were only 8 girls and 16 boys, and the year before that 7 girls and 16 boys. She's excited that she will be able to sit by a girl every once in awhile, and especially excited that she can sit by her sister. So far, both girls deemed the work in class "fun" and "easy". And I'm sure the first day's assignments will reflect what is coming. ;)
As for me? I do miss the girls( I know, shocking, when you take into account three days ago), but am delighted to have some quiet time to myself. Mostly, I have had a fabulous time watching Olympics and folding laundry. Oh, and lying on the couch reading and wasting time. I figure I only have a few days a year to indulge myself, so I do. Pretty soon, I'll start subbing, volunteering in the girls' classroom, and all the other normal things I should be doing. But for now, I'm enjoying the quiet. Heavenly.
August 13, 2008
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